


Tik Tok

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Breakfast, Comedy, Funny, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning After, RvB Rare Pair Week, Season/Series 01, Swearing, Walk Of Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 20:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14626263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: How many idiots in a canyon does it take to get laid?Too many. Church hates his life. And everyone else's lives too.





	Tik Tok

“Hey Church.”

Just the sound of Tucker’s voice grates on Church. He’d come up here, to the shady spot with a nice vantage point, to get away from the morons that made up his team. And Tucker had followed him. Still, he pushes himself up and turns to glare at Tucker. He won’t see it because they’re both wearing helmets, but Church is a great believer in displaying his ire with his whole body. He’s sure Tucker will get the idea. Now if it was Caboose…

“What the fuck Tucker? I told you to stay at the base!”

Tucker shrugs. The shrug is somehow insolent. Church thinks longingly of the days when Flowers had been leader of Blue Team and Tucker had shown some damn respect, except that Flowers had been creepy as fuck and the thought of him makes discomfort spread from the back of his neck downwards and he doesn’t actually miss those days at all. He just also hates the present. And probably the future too.

“Sarge is down there. Again.”

Church twitches. “And you just left the base with him down there? What about the flag?”

“I left Caboose talking to him. He wanted to talk to you. Again.” There’s something about the tone of Tucker’s voice, something knowing, that Church hates.

“Has he finally come to his senses and decided to surrender?”

“Someone’s gonna be surrendering,” Tucker mutters, but loud enough for Church to hear. He adds an even less subtle ‘bow chika bow wow’ to the end and Church knows he was meant to hear it.

“What was that Private Tucker? You want toilet cleaning duty for the rest of _forever_?”

“You can’t make me do that,” Tucker protests, and he sort of has a point. Tucker doesn’t really do anything he doesn’t want to do. It fucking sucks.

“I’ll tell Caboose you’re going to talk to him about the birds and the bees.”

“That’s cold, Church.” He can hear the pout in Tucker’s voice. Serves him right. Asshole.

Church smirks and hopes that the expression transfers to the swagger in his step as he stalks past Tucker and heads back towards the base. 

He can hear Caboose’s voice well before he sees him, spouting absolute bullshit as usual. He peers around the doorway, taking a moment to appreciate the slump of Sarge’s shoulders as Caboose rambles about who gives a fuck. Maybe he should just wait and see if Caboose can actually talk a person to death, or if Sarge will snap first and try to murder him. But that means that he has to keep listening to Caboose and if he does that there’s a good chance that he might be the one to snap and commit bloody murder. 

He deserves a goddam medal for his restraint. 

He finally steps out into the sunlight, sidearm raised and aimed. “Come to surrender, Red?”

“Church!” Caboose’s voice threatens to give him an immediate headache.

“Go find Tucker, Caboose,” he snaps. “Let me deal with the Reds.” 

For one terrible moment, he thinks Caboose is going to hug him. Thankfully that doesn’t come. Instead Caboose looks between them and oh- oh that’s actually worse than the hug, Church thinks, because it’s somehow knowing and Caboose knowing things can never lead to anything good and before he can demand answers that he doesn’t really want, Caboose bounds away yelling something about how Church is talking to his _friend_.

“Fuck,” Church says.

Sarge clears his throat. It’s the timing that pisses Church off. Well, the timing and the fact that Sarge exists and is here and Church’s stupid fucking subordinates are all cockbites of the highest order. He wonders who he pissed off badly enough that this is his life.

Church turns his attention back to the Red, a little annoyed that Sarge looks completely unconcerned that Church has a gun trained on him. “Well? You surrendering?”

There’s a snort from Sarge. “Never! I would never betray the Red Army and there’s nothing you can do to make me, filthy Blue.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured you’d say.” Because it’s what Sarge has said every single time they’ve had this conversation. “What do you want?”

“Have you ever wanted to ride the red tide? Let it-“

He doesn’t hear the rest of the speech because his brain short circuits. At least, that’s what it feels like, the way his thoughts are sparking and shattering because seriously. What. The. Fuck? He works his jaw, trying to get speech to return to him. His voice, when he speaks, comes out distinctly strangled. “I don’t- I don’t think that means what you think it-“

“Nonsense! I mean exactly what I’m saying. Now what do you say?”

Church had actually tuned out most of what Sarge had been saying and he scrambles to piece it together. Thankfully after a while you sort of picked up the rhythm of what Sarge was saying. it wasn’t as though there was much nuance to it and once Church managed to drag his mind away from ‘what the fuck does he mean by red tides’ it was easy to decipher. That they’d been doing this off and on for a few months didn’t hurt.

“Oh,” he responds. “Yeah, sure. Red tide away.”

He hates every moment that has lead to those words passing his lips.

“Well, what do you know? A filthy Blue seeing sense.”

“Seems like you’re the one who came over here begging, Red,” Church shoots back.

“I don’t beg! I take.”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to get Sarge riled up. Thank fuck. Church doesn’t think he can take much more of this fucking around.

“Come and take it then.”

And that’s how he ends up pressed against the wall of the base, Sarge’s knee between his leg, nudging the codpiece against his dick in a way that’s sort of painful and makes him entirely hard. 

About fucking time.

—————

“Seriously dude, again?”

Church groans and barely manages to raise his head off the pillow to glare at Grif. The other man has a cigarette between his lips and grease smeared down his shirt. The scent of something really fucking delicious wafts through the air, and Church aches in all sorts of places that feel really good.

“Go to hell Grif,” he growls, then mashes his face against the pillow. It’s red, of course. 

“I’m just saying, at this rate you’ll spend more time over here than at blue base.”

“Can you blame me?” Church asks. He’s not getting back to sleep is he? Ugh. “Where’s Sarge?”

“He said something about using the weakness of the leader of Blue Team as an opportunity to finally end the tyranny of the Blue Army.”

“Same as usual then.”

“Pretty much. You want breakfast?”

Church’s stomach growls. “Fuck yes.”


End file.
